


Thunderstorms

by avearia



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Grief, I know her name is Emily Jane I just like Seraphina better, Loneliness, Rain, Spring, Thunderstorms, very light on the shipping just fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28060479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avearia/pseuds/avearia
Summary: In Bunnymund's opinion, there was nothing quite as calming as a good old fashioned thunderstorm.
Relationships: E. Aster Bunnymund/Mother Nature | Emily Jane Pitchiner
Kudos: 8





	Thunderstorms

**Thunderstorms**

In Bunnymund's opinion, there was nothing quite as calming as a good old fashioned thunderstorm.

He let them into the Warren periodically, folding back his magic and letting the dark clouds seep into the high caverns of his home. They came in slowly, slinking in like reluctant cats, their thunder purring down the rocky walls.

Bunnymund supposed it was in his nature to love a good storm, (after all, what was Spring without rain?) But the way the weather stirred a rare, gentle tenderness in his chest told him there was far more to it than that.

When he first terraformed his planet, rain had not been in the plans. Storms had only started to occur after Seraphina, aka Mother Nature, crash landed on the planet. That first storm, full of whipping winds and drenching rain, had sprung up out of nowhere, the weather bending to match its maker's mood. The change had been so sudden that it startled Bunnymund right out of his grief-soaked melancholy, if only for a moment.

Mother Nature had staked her claim of Earth that day, and Bunnymund had just - _allowed_ it, because if she wanted to stick around, then he wasn't gonna try and chase her off.

Sometimes he wondered if she sent him these storms, as a sign of her goodwill. They were always so well-behaved, never thrashing about, never flooding his tunnels or striking down his favorite trees with bolts of white-hot lightning. The thunderheads were content to prowl the Warren, it seemed, to cleanse the Earth with a curtain of rain, and of course, to keep him company.

Even if she did not mean to send them, he treasured them all the same.

 _Besides,_ he thought, watching the latest storm from the dry safety of his burrow. He closed his eyes and breathed, listening to the rhythm of rain pattering down on his gardens outside. _The clouds are still a gift, in a way._

After all, each storm, just by existing, was a promise of its own - a small reminder that, though he was the last living Pooka, and the oldest living thing on this planet -

 _Well_ , Bunny chuckled. That did not necessarily mean that he was here _alone.  
_


End file.
